Dreams of Darkness and Light
by Zoi no miko
Summary: Echoes of the past emerge to haunt John, Anna and Dr. Schreber. With the strangers gone, is the human mind strong enough to allow John Murdoch to remember who he really is? m/m slashfic.
1. Chapter 1

Dreams of Darkness and Light

Fandom: Dark City

Pairing: Murdoch/Schreber

Standard disclaimer: I do not own or make money off of 'Dark City' or its characters, this is a work of fan fiction only. :)

It was a month after the Strangers died when John Murdoch finally managed to begin his romance with Emma – now Anna- again. Shell Beach was hollow to him. A perfect plastic paradise, he realized. Nothing more. And so he went back to the city. A few subtle changes in the city, that were as easy for him as breathing now, landed him the penthouse in the apartment building she lived in. Where he could observe her. After that it was only a matter of taking evening walks on the riverfront until he bumped into her again.

She didn't know him beyond their meeting in Shell Beach where her parents lived, of course. Didn't recognize him. But she seemed to take to him quite readily, and her company made him smile. Still, something about it felt fake, like he was just acting out a part in a play.

The first time they made love, it felt somehow wooden, mechanical. He tried to remember their past intimacies to rouse his passion, and hoped she didn't notice.

That night, the nightmares came for the first time. The Strangers, inflicting unspeakable terrors – on her, on John, and Schreber – poor, frightened Schreber with his bright blue eyes and his staggered walk. But no... this was the Schreber from his implanted memories – the doctor was young and whole, but still terrified, reaching for John, screaming a name he couldn't quite hear....

John woke to Anna's frantic voice as she shook him, quaking in terror herself. It took a moment for him to adjust, to realize where he was and what had happened. He blinked fuzzily as Anna clung to him, incoherent with fear.

He'd Tuned in his sleep. The window was bricked over, the walls of the room pressed within feet of the bed. A product of his unconscious mind, he supposed. The need to be closeted. Protected.

He wrapped his arms around Anna immediately, securely, trying to calm her while his mind slowly and silently tuned the room back into place, trying to convince Anna that nothing had happened, that it had all been her nightmare, not his. She didn't buy it. Finally, he just gave in and told her the truth. Not all of it, not the bits about her, and not specifically about Schreber. But about the Strangers and the experiments, the altered memories.

Strangely, the truth calmed her. He would have expected her to be more hysterical, but perhaps the walls moving had peaked her hysteria, and nothing else could be worse. And any explanation was easier to accept than than no explaination at all. They sat up until the sun rose, talking. Or rather, mostly John just talked, and Anna listened. It was what he needed, he realized. Just to feel like someone could listen and not think that he was crazy.

Anna had uncertainties too, it turned out. Dreams she had started having recently, startlingly real, always with the same cast. A lover that she felt so strongly for that she couldn't help but keep feeling that way in her real life. Feelings so strong that she was always searching for the man from her dreams.

"I don't think I'm that man," John found himself saying, surprising himself by doing so. Wasn't that what he wanted? For Anna to remember his love? But it wasn't his love she was remembering. And somehow, he was ok with that.

Anna had given an apologetic smile. She said he was familiar to her, though. That it felt like she'd known him her entire life. And that it was so good, such a relief to be with someone who didn't think she was crazy, someone who could offer some kind of explanation – however crazy – for her dreams and her emotions.

Anna moved in.

They made love, sometimes, but it was awkward and always gave John nightmares. He learned to stop the Tuning in his sleep, but it still unsettled him, so in the weeks that followed they settled into a kind of platonic love, two strangers alone in a world that knew nothing of the truth. They shared a bed, ate dinner together, and went for long walks in the late afternoon sunshine. It wasn't what John Murdoch wanted... but it was all he had.

_Then he starts to dream again. Not the nightmares, but strange dreams, dreams that are more like living in someone else's head. At first he dreams about Anna – strange, pointless dreams__,__d__reams of walking a dog with her, pushing her teenaged self playfully out of a small boat__.__ Sometimes she looks much younger, and he ponders why his subconscious is giving him these images. There are others as well – an older couple who he comes to think of as Anna's parents, a younger boy, and a woman who seems to be Anna's friend. And as he dreams, she ceases to be Anna and becomes Sarah._

John clamped his dreams away, never mentioning them to her.

Three months after the Strangers died, he ran into Doctor Daniel Schreber again.

The man hadn't changed, still clad smartly in a three piece suit that would have been distinguished if it weren't for his uneven gait, the twisted facial features with the partly closed right eye. He was sitting at a table at a street cafe, and stood when he spotted John, moving forward in a way that always struck John as painful looking.

"Mr. Murdoch – it's been – some time. Such a nice surprise – to see you." His words were laboured with his troubled breath, but eloquent, and John found himself wondering why he would struggle to use so many words when it was so hard for him to do so.

He managed a smile, shaking Schreber's offered hand. There was something warm and familiar about it that made him pause, that made his previous plans to brush off the Doctor's greeting change. He watched Schreber for a moment, trying to formulate a new plan, not letting go of his hand. "How are you?" He said, finally.

Schreber smiled, the kind of relieved, desperate smile John would have expected from someone who had just been offered a way to cheat death. "I am... all right, thank you. But it – it is difficult sometimes. I feel like – a stranger myself --- in this world."

John found himself nodding. He suddenly realized that he was still holding Schreber's hand, and let it go. "Let's talk over breakfast?" He inclined his head towards the cafe table the doctor had come from. "If you have no plans, of course."

The Doctor shook his head, sitting down with him, watching him. "No, I... I don't really have – have anything to do. Not now. The same, I think, as you?" He ordered a cup of tea, declining breakfast, and John absently did the same.

John looked out into the city, watching the way the sunlight played against the buildings. They were clean now, and repaired; a far cry from the old city with its eternal night. "The same," He said, finally. "I fix things, you know... change some things. Sometimes I make it rain. But... you're right. I don't really have anything to do." He looked back at the doctor, surprising himself by saying, "It's good to see you, Doctor. Thank you for coming to see me."

Schreber looked a little taken aback, and tried to cover his reaction with his cup of tea as the waitress brought it. "And you... as well, Mr. Murdoch."

John ignored the cup in front of him. "Please... call me John. Mr Murdoch reminds me too much of... everything before."

"My apologies," The doctor replied, hesitating for a long moment before offering, "If you like... you may call me Daniel."

There was a calming sense of familiarity in the name, and John found himself smiling. Of course the Doctor should be familiar to him. He'd been implanted throughout John's last fabricated set of memories– a childhood guide and teacher. A constant friend – kind, warm and supportive. Those memories didn't quite feel real now, but he let himself dwell on them for a few moments, enjoying the soft pleasure they brought. "Thank you, Daniel," he found himself saying, and took a sip of his tea.

Daniel was watching him, an uneven smile on his lips that was somehow fond and nervous at the same time. "I hope you... don't mind. I just – wanted to see you, to– to thank you."

John set down his cup. "To thank me?"

"For this." Daniel replied simply, and motioned towards the city. "For stopping them. For..." he hesitated, his voice softening slightly. "For freeing me."

John smiled, shaking his head slowly. "It was you who freed me, my friend," he replied, nursing his tea. It took him a moment to realize that Daniel hadn't spoken, and when he looked up, there were tears in his bright blue eyes.

"Thank you," he said softly. "I was afraid– that you would hate me."

John shook his head slowly. "No... even without the lessons you injected me with..." he tapped his head. "I don't think I could ever hate you. It should be the other way around, with the way I treated you. And..." he mused, half to himself, "You're the only one in this city who really knows me at all..."

Daniel took off his glasses and passed a hand across his eyes before making a show of cleaning the lenses, seeming a bit embarrassed by his own emotion, trying to hide it. "Will you... will you show me your city?"

John smiled, finding himself liking the idea. He left a few coins on the table to pay for the coffee, having discovered that he could tune money as easily as buildings. Daniel seemed to accept this without question, as well as the billfold full of crisp new twenties that John pressed into his hand as an afterthought. He followed John into the hailed taxi cab without question, and John found himself smiling, wondering how long he could manage to make a tour of the city last.

_That night, he dream__s__ of Daniel. Not the crippled Doctor, but a younger version of him, whole like he was in his memories. In dreams__,__ nothing shocks John. Somehow, though, he knows that it isn't the doctor from his forged memories. This is the real thing. He is young__er__, a young professional__, a young psychiatrist. Scientist. Or__ possibly both, he c__a__n't quite be sure. John pours over case files with him, talking and comparing notes. They walk together on a long grassy boulevard. They go to dinner with colleagues, eating food so real that John can taste it, even after the dream._

He stared at his expression in the mirror that morning, wondering about it, pondering the realism of it, the images and feelings that lingered. He eyed the stubble on his cheeks and, on a whim, tried to Tune it away. It was easier than he expected, leaving his skin tingling and entirely hairless.

"I'll never get used to seeing you do that," Anna murmured, dressed in her robe, leaning against the bathroom door. She smiled at him. It was Saturday. They went out for breakfast, sitting outside a cafe on the river front. John had a plate of fresh fruit, which was a far cry from the squid ink pasta he remembered from his dream, which he didn't think he'd ever actually tried before. He wondered where the fruit came from in this place. Maybe just another product of the Machine that he has yet to investigate.

They talked about dreams as they ate. He mentioned his own, finally, and once he started he was relieved that it spilled out quite easily. Everything he can recall, apart from Daniel's entrance the night before. It still seemed strange to him, and thinking about it brought a strange feeling of vulnerability, so he focused on Anna, her parents, the girl.

"You should keep a diary," Anna suggested, finishing her toasted bagel with smoked salmon. She ordered another coffee. John had tea this morning, though he was not sure why.

"A diary? What good would that do?"

Anna shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "I'm not sure. But I write everything down when I wake up– everything I can remember. It takes a while, sometimes. Then when I read back over them... sometimes I remember new things. Sometimes I think it's just my own imagination, but... maybe it's more. Maybe writing them down will help me figure it all out." She smiled, optimistic. "If you have time... I would very much like it if you would write down anything you dream about me. More pieces of the puzzle."

Of course he had time. "Where do these come from, Anna?" he mused, though he was asking himself more than anything.

She nursed her coffee, watching him. "I've been thinking a lot about the things you told me. What if the chemicals weren't enough to alter our identities forever? What if we're slowly remembering all the experiences we've had, who we used to be?"

John thought about his dreams with Daniel. "I'm not sure how possible, that would be," he replied. "But... I think I know someone who might know a little more than we do. He knows about the experiments I told you about. He's a psychiatrist– not because I think you're crazy," he adds quickly, teasingly. "But he has some interesting insights on the human mind."

He left money behind, and they walked to Schreber's office, which was only a few blocks from the riverfront, and only a short detour on their way home. The building was mostly empty, the glass storefronts on the bottom floor dark and abandoned, and it seemed lonely to him. Sad.

They went upstairs, and Anna knocked on his door. Somehow John had assumed that he would be in the office on a Saturday, but as he let his mind explore the building, he realized that there were living quarters adjoining the work space. Daniel answered a few moments later, surprised and a little confused to see Anna, but smiled at John beside her. It was still early, but he was dressed just as smartly in his three piece suit, and invited them in immediately. If he found it strange to see John twice in as many days, he didn't say so.

"Please excuse... the mess," he said, though there was none. It seemed rather empty for such a large room, and apart from the shelves filled with books, containing only a large oak desk and the necessary psychiatrist's couch, with a matching chair. "My work is... mainly theoretical, but I have --recently changed the direction of my research. So, you see... I don't have many visitors. Please have a seat." Daniel ignored the seat behind his desk, turning to offer his hand to Anna. "Please forgive me – John has mentioned you so often that I – forget we have not met. My name is -- Doctor Daniel Schreber. I am – a psychologist."

Anna shook it with a smile, and John realized belatedly that he'd neglected to introduce them, lost to his own thoughts yet again. "I'm sorry – Daniel – this is Anna, my..." he hesitated, before finally supplying, "Girlfriend."

Anna laughed pleasantly, charming as always. She was, John reflected, far more happy and optimistic than Emma was in the brief time he knew her. In a way, perhaps her last memory change was for the best. "Pleased to meet you, doctor. John and I were talking this morning about something that's been troubling us, and he thought you might be able to shed some light on the situation." She sat on the couch when bidden, leaving the other end for John, and Daniel settled into the matching chair nearby.

"I can – certainly try. But you must – forgive me if you -- are looking for couple's counselling. That is – not my expertise." He had a sparkle in his eye that John wasn't used to seeing, and Anna laughed at the subtle joke. Daniel's echoing laugh was low and warm, and somehow familiar to John, though he realized he hasn't ever had occasion to hear the doctor laugh, apart from in dreams.

He let Anna talk. She started out a little hesitant, but quickly became eager to spill it all out, details of her dreams – names, situations, relationships – seemingly grateful to have another listening ear, and one with a medical background.

Daniel listened attentively, sometimes prompting her, sometimes clarifying, and in a few cases pulling answers from John. Finally he stood, moving a chart from behind the desk and tearing off the sheet of paper to reveal a new one beneath. He labeled the bottom "Original Psyche" and the top "Present Persona". He wrote "Anna" and "John" under those, and then his name again, with "Emma" beside it. He added a few names under John's, almost as an afterthought, but John didn't recognize any of them.

"Emma?" Anna questioned, and Daniel looked surprised.

"You didn't -- tell her?"

John hesitated, a little ashamed. "She doesn't remember that, and I don't really either. I didn't want to complicate things."

Daniel nodded. "You were his wife," he explains simply, "at least, as far as -- that set of your memories was concerned. There was an error – in implanting John – that night. So he didn't – receive that set. It is—what lead to his powers – today. But you still --- seem to be, somehow – connected."

Anna nodded slowly. "He appears in my dreams. He's not... he's not The One, but... he's there, and he's very familiar to me."

Daniel nodded again, absently, leaning back against his desk to regard the chart. "There is... a very large... empty gap of time for you. For all of us. A time -- where who we were was --- determined only by chemicals. But the problem --- traditionally – with synthetic chemicals, is... they break down. Over time. Perhaps, I think -- our false memories may be --- the same?"

"That we're remembering another lifetime?" Anna asked, and her eyes lit up.

"Or many," Daniel replied, motioning with his pen to the large gap of space between the top and the bottom of the page. "The Strangers – their experiments, they could have been – years. I don't know exactly – how long. The injections were given – every month, or so... more for some—than others. Even for me. So there are– many memories that could– resurface. Or even...." He taped the bottom of the paper with his pen, looking a little excited. "This."

"Our... original memories. Before they took us."

"Who is to say—that the human brain, our --- subconscious. That it wouldn't– have things stored, still. Things that the chemicals– only could mask. Not destroy. Perhaps in dreams, where our– subconscious is strongest– it can bring the real memories– back to life."

Anna began to see Daniel three times a week, after she was done at her job. Sometimes John went with her, though he found himself increasingly useless in the conversation. Her dreams still focused on the family he'd seen, and of course the love of her life. Now John only dreamed about Daniel. Sometimes he was already at the office, when Anna arrived. Officially, he was there for the same reason Anna is, but he can't quite bring himself to tell doctor about the dreams of himself. So instead they talked about Anna, and the city, the workings of the machine, and what little pieces of history they knew. s the next few weeks passed, he found himself spending more and more of his time in the doctor's company. Daniel tactfully let him know how the strangers had provided the city with food and water, and so part of their daily meetings involved making sure that the Machine was creating the needed amount of fresh food, and about once a week travelling with Daniel to make sure the various storehouses were full. It made him realize how much he still had to learn, and all the little things that needed to be done to sustain life in the city, and how lucky he was that Daniel had come to see him. It was also a good excuse to pay the doctor. Daniel protested – he had no overhead on the building, but John insisted. Knowing that the Doctor didn't take clients, he could only assume that the Strangers had provided him, and money was still needed for food and day to day necessities.

"Think of it as a consulting position," he'd told him. "Chief Information Officer for the city. After all, you did offer to one day work for me."

He was on his way over to the doctor's with Anna one day, walking along the riverfront, when they decided to make a stop at a small bakery along the way. Daniel had taken to serving them hot tea with milk in the afternoon as they talked, and John was struck with the idea that it would be nice to take over some scones.

The bakery was warm, rich with the smell of fresh bread and yeast. There was a red-haired girl behind the counter who smiled at him in a way that seemed strangely familiar as he ordered. "Half a dozen blueberry scones..." he stopped. "Do I... know you from somewhere?" The question was absurd, and he knew it as soon as it left his lips. He knew next to no-one here. Even with the last memory imprint, his history focused only on his family, on Emma, and the reoccurring figure of Daniel, teaching him to tune. But this girl's face looked so startlingly familiar that he couldn't let it go.

The girl gave him a curious smile, impish and irresistible. "I don't think so. Did you grow up around here?"

John shook his head slowly. "No... Shell Beach."

"Ah. I must just have one of those faces, then." She handed the box of fresh scones across to him, thanking him. "Sir... is your lady friend all right?"

John turned at her words. Anna still stood by the shop door, watching them, her face as white as a sheet. "Anna?"

"Lets go," She managed softly, and turning, left the store.

John managed an apology to the shop girl, hurrying after Anna, who was already striding towards the office. "Are you alright?" He asked, voice low.

"I'm fine," she replied, though it was obvious that she wasn't. "I don't want to talk about it." John let the issue lay, puzzling over it himself as they walked, reaching the office shortly.

Daniel let them in, noting Anna's distress and carefully not commenting on it, taking the scones from John silently and disappearing into the back. Anna stayed standing, fidgeting, regardless of John claiming his regular spot on the couch. The doctor reappeared a few moments later with the scones on a plate, and a small dish of butter, setting them down on his empty desk. "Anna, how are your dreams?"

Without a word, Anna threw her arms around the doctor's shoulders and burst into tears.

Daniel looked up at John a little bit helplessly, holding Anna gently. "Shh, my dear... what is the matter?"

It took Anna a few moments to compose herself, fishing out a handkerchief to dry her eyes. "It's a girl," She managed between sniffles. "Daniel... what do I do?"

"A... girl?" Daniel sat her down carefully on the couch, crouching in front of her, though John could tell that it pained him to do so. He sat on the other end of the couch, a little awkwardly, feeling somehow as if he was intruding. "Anna... you mean the one you -- have been looking for?"

Anna nodded wordlessly, dabbing away fresh tears. "I feel so stupid," She chokes, shaking her head. "She was in the dreams, she always was. I just assumed... symbolism or something, I didn't think... oh god, what do I do?"

Daniel reached up to take her face in his hands, gently forcing her to look down at him, his expression calm and yet somehow more serious than John had ever seen it. "Anna... are your feelings still strong? This person is the same as in your dreams, correct?"

She lowered her eyes, trembling. "I thought– I thought it was just symbolism, I didn't think... how could she possibly be a woman?"

Daniel leaned back a little, taking her hand in both of his a spark of passion in his eyes. "Anna. Please believe me. This is– this is not wrong, this is not unnatural."

"How can it not be?" Anna whimpered, and Daniel shook his head.

"It's what they wanted -- us to believe. I swear it. They were very... xenophobic, you see. Part of being a collective mind, they believed –that everyone should be -- be the same. They barely tolerated -- people of colour. They eradicated the idea of – of same-sex attraction, in humans. It disgusted them. "

Anna shook her head, clearly overwhelmed by the onslaught of information and ideas. "I don't... I don't understand...."

Daniel shifted his position slightly, wincing a little as he did, to let his weight rest on his knees, but didn't let go of Anna's hands. "I mean to tell you that– that what you feel, what you dream is – completely correct, completely – natural." She doesn't answer for a long moment, so he continued. "These books in my office. They are the only clues that I – have to how life really was. They didn't – they didn't destroy the books, you see. They brought them with us. I guess they – thought that if we couldn't remember what we -- were reading, then – they didn't pose a threat. I convinced them—that my library would help – with the experiments." He gave a little breathless laugh, but it failed to pull Anna from her mood. Daniel sighed. "It was normal. Before we were taken. Women could love, could live together and– and marry. Raise a family. Society will– will revert, will adjust, you will see."

"What do I do in the meantime?" Anna asked softly, helplessly, and the doctor patted her hand gently.

"Nothing that you – that you do not want to. You know now where to find her, yes? Where she is?" When Anna nodded, he continued. "You have as much time – as you would like, then."

Anna nodded, slowly, obviously miserable. "I feel like I'm betraying my dreams," She said softly, closing her eyes for a moment. "I always thought that when my heart finally recognized him – her – that I'd rush right into – her – arms. Just like they say in fairy tales. That it would be everything I ever needed."

Daniel patted her hand again. "Life can be a bit– unexpected sometimes. That's what makes us grow. But let me see if I– have anything that might– help you out." He got to his feet, slowly and painfully, and stood surveying the bookshelves for some time. Then he went to his desk to pull out a thin notebook, leafing through it. "John, you should pour Anna– some tea. And I would like– very much to try a scone."

John moved over to the desk without any further prompting, feeling a little relieved to have something to do. He brought Anna a cup of tea, adding milk and sugar like he'd learned that she liked it, and buttering a scone for her. She regarded the scone silently for a few moments, then took it, nibbling on it as she watched the Doctor move about the room.

Daniel seemed to find what he was looking for without too much difficulty, taking a battered paperback off the top shelf. "Forgive me, I– I have a hard time remembering– where everything is, sometimes. I wrote it down– but every time they injected me– I would have to re-learn my office." He sat, in the chair this time, handing the book across to Anna, the cover bearing the title 'Coming Out of Shame.' "Please– borrow this. Reading it may help you– understand a little more."

The rest of their meeting was brief, and Daniel walked home with them afterwards, claiming the need for exercise. When they reached the door of the apartment building, he hesitated. "John... do you mind to – keep me company a while longer?"

John nodded, giving Anna a reassuring peck on the cheek as she went inside, feeling much more suited to the role of friend, rather than boyfriend. As though this was how it was meant to be. Then he started back along the streets with the Doctor. The sun was setting, and he slowed it down slightly, to give them more time in the golden twilight.

"Are you – all right, John?" Daniel asked, stopping as they passed a small park.

John felt his eyebrows raise slightly. "I'm fine. Did you think I wouldn't be?"

Daniel hesitated, watching him. "I was... unsure, about the nature of your– relationship with Anna. I know you– you loved her."

John was silent for a moment. "It's... difficult to explain," he said, finally. "When I couldn't remember anything, she was the only beacon of calm in the chaos of that miserable eternal night. She believed in me. So I guess I was drawn to her. But... when I romanced her as Anna... I think we both came to realize that we weren't meant to be."

Daniel nodded slowly, and John could see him analyzing, recording the information behind those blue eyes. "But you still live together."

John gave an exhalation of breath. "It's... nice not to be alone, sometimes. I still don't remember very much... Anna is familiar to me. And she knows what I am, knows the horrible past behind this city that I'm making, even if she doesn't remember it firsthand." He paused for a moment. "Did you mean what you said to her?" he asked softly. "About... about women, being together?"

Daniel nodded seriously. "I wouldn't lie to her."

"Have you considered," John asked slowly, "That her dreams... might just be dreams? That this woman we met today... could just be some strange reaction in her brain?"

"I'm not sure," the doctor replied. "I haven't been able– to determine that yet. But her last imprint– there was no design for– mental instability. And she believes that it is real. That is what matters– the most, right now. Support and acceptance– while she goes through this."

John nodded, regarding Daniel a little curiously. "I always meant to ask you... after we took back the city, when I made Shell Beach... I went home to find her there. But why would the Strangers have implanted her with the knowledge to go there? It didn't even exist yet."

Daniel smiled, looking a little pleased with himself. "She was there? I'm very glad of that. It was– rather my doing, you see. A bet—that you'd win. I couldn't stop her from being implanted. You know that. But I made her memories– very carefully, very specifically– in the hopes that she would find you." John must have looked astonished, because Daniel's expression turned a bit concerned. "I'm sorry– if I overstepped my bounds..."

John shook his head slowly. "No... no, thank you. That was very kind of you." He glanced down the road in the direction of Daniel's office, then Tuned a small park bench in the greenery and sat down, patting the seat beside him. "You never had any doubt that I'd win?"

The Doctor was silent for a long moment, looking out at the street, watching the few cars and pedestrians that hurried by. "I gambled everything -- on you. I'm still– amazed that they– didn't kill me instantly– when I injected you with the wrong syringe."

John regarded him, the guilt of his actions creeping back to him. "I should have taken it from you in the beginning. I should have trusted you. I'm sorry."

"You didn't– have any reason to," Daniel replied. "I was a– traitor to our kind. Safer not to trust me."

"I'm sure you had you reasons," John supplied, but the Doctor doesn't volunteer any details. "I'm sorry for hurting you," John said, finally.

Daniel smiled slowly, turning back to look at him. "Then we both– have things to regret. But John– I forgave you long ago." The sun had set while they were talking, and he stood, looking a little wistful. "I should... get home. Anna needs you."

On a whim, John stood as well, wrapping his arms securely around the other man's waist. "I'll take you," he said softly, before lifting them quickly off the ground.

Daniel clutched at him in a sudden panic, choking on his breath, and John quickly landed on the roof of the nearest building, loosening his grip. "Daniel?"

"Don't let go!" Daniel almost barked, shaking in his grip and John obliged, even though they were standing solidly on the rooftop.

"I'm sorry– are you ok?"

"Acrophobia," Daniel managed to gasp, his fingers digging painfully into John's shoulders. "They loved – to tease me with it. But I never – got over it."

"I'm sorry– I'll take you back down to the street and we can walk," John felt almost ashamed, guilty at having inadvertently caused his panic, but Daniel shook his head.

"No... no. Just... just give me a moment." He drew soft, shallow breaths, keeping his eyes closed as he slowly loosened his death grip on John's shoulders. "I'm sorry. I'll be all right." He managed to open his eyes, looking up at John, suddenly the trembling, vulnerable man that John had first met.

"I didn't mean...." He sighed. "I feel like a right asshole."

"It's all right," Daniel replied quickly, nervously. "It just -– surprised me. I'm sorry. We can go."

John wrapped his arms around him tightly, feeling strangely protective of him as he used his abilities to quickly cover the distance to Daniel's office. He didn't bother landing, but Tuned open the large window in Daniel's office, setting them down gently inside. "We're here."

Daniel carefully let go, looking a little gray, and sat down carefully behind the desk before pouring himself a cup of cold tea. "Thank you for the– escort," He said finally, managing a little weak smile, his nerves calming. "I'm sorry not to be a– more appreciative– passanger. I'm sure Anna– loves it."

John shook his head. "I've never taken her flying," he replied. "But I think she'd have about the same reaction."

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Daniel asked softly, and John nodded, smiling.

"Tomorrow. And no more flying."

He dreamed again of Daniel that night, another dream to add to the library, dreams that had grown more frequent, more real. Sometimes it made him feel almost like he was living two separate lives. One was this city... Anna, the crippled doctor, the world he didn't fit into despite all his powers. And the other... the other was blissful, and yet somehow disturbing. For in the dreams, it became undeniably clear that Daniel was his lover.

_The dreams start in the office, start with work. And then somehow there are touches- gentle, simple touches- the caress of Daniel's hand on his, soft touches to his arms and shoulders. The way Daniel's blue eyes sparkle when he talks. The way that he feels when he meets those eyes with his, the desire in them. A night at the opera in a private box, and Daniel leaning over to steal a kiss, finally admitting his attraction. And the dreams progress, into stolen, breathless kisses that make John ache with need. Long embraces that feel so real- Daniel's body warm and strong against him, pressing him up against the door inside his office. Daniel's voice husky with need. "We shouldn't be doing this..." But John wants anything but for him to stop. And then passion– hot and needy, their limbs tangled with the sheets in John's bed, kisses so intense that it seems as though they will steal each other's breath as they make love._

John awoke from that dream in a hot sweat, troubled by the ebbing shivers of passion that still raced through his body and the mess he left in his shorts. He stumbled to the en-suite bathroom, finding himself thinking how glad he was that Anna had moved into one of the other rooms as he cleaned himself up, putting on new clothes and getting back to bed.

Still, he couldn't sleep. His mind was pulled back to the imagined passion that was somehow so real that he could still feel Daniel's lingering kisses on his skin. He closed his eyes tight in agony, unwilling to try and think about what this could mean, and unable to keep his mind and body away from Daniel. His body betrayed him, too eager to respond to the remembered passion, and finally he gave in, stroking himself a little helplessly to the vivid memories until he came again. Finally, the images ebbed, and he dreamed a sleep without dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

Dreams of Darkness and Light

Fandom: Dark City

Pairing: Murdoch/Schreber

Standard disclaimer: I do not own or make money off of 'Dark City' or its characters, this is a work of fan fiction only. :)

Part 2

John arrived at the doctor's office late the next morning to find Daniel with his hat on, just putting on his jacket. "Ah, John. Good morning. I am sorry– for the late notice, but I hoped- we could go... out?"

He smiled, finding himself more and more endeared by the Doctor's mannerisms and personality quirks. "Sure. Where did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking– that we could, perhaps– go for lunch." He gave what John almost thought was a cheeky smirk. "Your treat. And then– I will help you, if you like– to find the vaults. We can find- Anna's record. I am very curious to– test the contents. See how they compare– against what she has told us."

John agreed without any need for convincing, walking quietly along the street with Daniel, trying not to dwell over his dreams from the night before. It was so strange that he was sure it didn't mean anything, not like Anna's. Despite Daniel's impassioned speech the day before, he still wasn't even sure if two women could be lovers, let alone... let alone....

If Daniel noticed his brooding, he didn't remark on it. But then again, they had slowly become used to each others' comfortable silences, without the need for small talk. "Do you mind– this cafe?" The doctor asks, snapping John out of his revere.

John shrugged, turning into the cafe. "I'm not picky, doc. But you seem to have quite the affinity for outdoor cafes."

Daniel gave a soft, breathy laugh. "Yes, I– suppose I do. It's the sunlight, you know. I have a lot of it– to catch up on."

John found himself smiling as well. "I suppose that's true."

They sat down together and the waitress brought them tall glasses of ice water that began to collect condensation in the sun. John ordered a chicken sandwich and a milk tea over ice, unbuttoning and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as they waited in the sun.

Daniel ordered ham on rye, sitting back and watching him with a little smile as the waitress left. "So nice to– be able to enjoy the sun." He stood to take off his suit jacket, revealing a short sleeved shirt and shiny, mottled scarring on his right arm. The doctor followed the gaze of John's eyes, giving him a little apologetic smile. "Their– idea of negotiating. My apologies. I will cover them- if you are squeamish."

"I don't mind," John replied. The waitress that brought their food blanched, though, and John found himself strangely angry at her. He bit into his sandwich to take his mind off of it, watching Daniel, who, if he noticed the waitresses look of disgust, masked any sign of being affected. "Does it hurt?" he asked softly, finally.

Daniel glanced up from his sandwich though his wire rimmed glasses. "Oh. Not anymore. Thank you. They're old."

John regarded his skin thoughtfully for a long moment. "I think I could fix them for you, if you like," he offered. "I can't imagine it would be much different from fixing Anna's papercuts.

Daniel looked a little surprised, but shook his head. "Thank you, John. I'm touched. But there is -- no need.

"What... did they do?" John can't keep himself from asking, though the doctor takes it in stride.

"Fire, in this case. Which is also – how my lungs became scorched." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Sometimes, I find it very strange– that I'm not dead."

I'm glad you're not, John thought, though he couldn't quite bring himself to say it. "I dreamed about you," came out instead, which, he thought on reflection, was probably worse.

Daniel snapped into Professional Psychologist mode almost immediately. "Really? Would you like– to tell me about it?"

John hesitated, his mind going back immediately to the main portion of the dream and quickly trying to decide if he could back out. "It... wasn't really anything in particular...."

Daniel watched him, asking carefully, "Is it- bothering you?" He set down the other half of his sandwich, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his hands together in front of his face.

Yes, John refrained from answering. "No... it was just... very unexpected."

"How did it make you - feel?"

John shrugged, idly drawing a pattern on the side of his glass in the condensation. "I'm not sure there's much to talk about. It was just very real, that's all."

"Tell me about it? ... Please?" Daniel prompted again, gently.

John leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath, carefully trying to sort back through the memories of his dreams without bringing up the uncomfortable memories of sex. "We worked together," he said finally. "There were a lot of reports. And we went out to a restaurant together. I had squid ink pasta without knowing exactly what it was, and I was shocked when it was so black. You thought it was so amusing..." He paused, pondering the dreams. "You... called me Jason." The news was a bit startling to him, and he looked up at the Doctor, hoping for some kind of answer.

Daniel stared at him silently, still as stone, his expression eerily neutral apart from a strange intensity in his eyes. "I see," he said slowly, carefully, not moving his hands.

"Is... something the matter?" John asked carefully.

Daniel gave a quick, sharp little shake of his head, almost as if to clear it. "No, nothing wrong. Just very interesting that you– have another name. Any other– dreams like that?"

John shook his head slowly, his mind remembering the dream kisses before he could stop himself, and he hoped he didn't seem too flustered. "Not really. Just more of the same. You liked marmalade on toast for breakfast."

"I do like marmalade," Daniel replied calmly, finishing the rest of his sandwich. "Perhaps you– know me better than I thought." He gave a little chuckle, leaning back in his chair and sipping at his ice water.

John finished his food as well, feeling strangely as though he was missing some important realization, but shook it off, not wanting to dwell on things he wasn't sure he wanted to understand. John left behind a few bills to pay and they set off silently, Daniel leading the way through the streets and alleyways, occasionally asking John a question here or there about the subtle changes he'd made. Finally they reached a brick wall, and Daniel turned to him. "Could you make a door here please, John?"

He obliged, and they slipped through quietly into the cold blue ruins of the Strangers.

It wasn't as hard to navigate underneath the city as John would have expected. He hadn't been down there since the Strangers defeat, preferring to work from the surface, being able to tap the machines' energy easily enough from anywhere in the city. There was a lift still sitting at their entrance, and he followed Daniel into it, controlling it easily to move through the shafts and tunnels of the city's underground. He eyed Daniel, remembering his reaction to the flight. "Will you be all right?"

Daniel had turned to face him as the lift started to move, very carefully keeping his eyes on John's face, his hand's clutching the bars tightly. "Yes. Though I've never– liked these lifts, they are– necessary," He said, voice a little tight with stress. "I think, sometimes -- that it amused them– how fragile we were. They were– virtually indestructible unless you– significantly damaged the head, or they encountered- too much moisture, or sunlight. They could– sustain a body for decades with– their power. They couldn't believe that humans were- so weak, and yet- still surviving. Turn left- at the next junction, please."

As they moved deeper, the going was slower, rubble blocking their way. More than once John had to set the lift down to concentrate on clearing the path in front of them, trying to make sure it remained structurally sound. Finally they arrived at the top of a shaft to a room surrounded by rows upon rows of cabinets. John set the lift down and helped him off, taking him far back from the edge of the shaft and Tuning a railing around it as a bit of an afterthought. "These are all... records? Of the people here?"

The Doctor nodded, leaning down to get a closer look at the label on the nearest cabinet. "Yes. They were started, I think, before they took us. It seems – that there was certain criteria – to meet. And each file – updated, with every new imprint, every new set of memories." He started down the row. "It is good that– you remember her name- in dreams. Otherwise we would – have a very long search."

John doesn't follow, staring at the cabinets until Daniel calls his name. "Daniel... is my file in here?"

He hesitated, then shook his head slowly. "It is... very unlikely, I'm afraid. The last I saw of your – record, it was in the – facility where the memories are stored. The facility was – destroyed before your final implant, when Book shut it down. And if it is not – there... Book moved the all strays – to another section, one that – I never saw. Hidden, confidential records. Probably, I think, my own as well." He watched John, head tilting a little to the side. "I don't– recommend you search for it, John. The past is past... you may not --like what you see." He watched John nod reluctantly, and sighed. "I can't stop you, of course. But if you do – decide to go looking, please respect my wishes and – don't read my file."

"I won't." John replied, giving him a reassuring smile.

When they found the section that Daniel was looking for, they went through three drawers of "Sarah" before the finally found Anna's file, numbered #3853. There was a photo of her on the front, grainy like it had been taken through a telephoto lens. A much younger Anna, looking very much like John remembered her in his dreams. He Tuned a desk light into existence, and they set it on top of the cabinet, pouring over it together. It was mostly experiments – names, dates, situations, observations. Items that were needed for the scenario. Strange formulas, which Daniel explained were for building the memory cocktail.

Finally, at the very end of the file, was the girl named Sarah. It was strange, to read the Strangers detached observations. There was a photo on the page with part of the side ripped off, and he recognized immediately the people in the rest of the picture, the red haired girl from the bakery, who he was sure that he'd also seen in his dreams. The older couple were there as well, and the younger boy.

'Name: Sarah Walker. Family unit of Toby and Janet Walker (unsuitable for experimentation). Age calculated at 18 rotations of the blue planet.'

There was a list of characteristics paired with numerical formula. A rating system, Daniel explained. There was a control group that had been taken; people the Strangers had decided would be unlikely to produce results, people who were labelled "sluggish and unresponsive to stimuli". They were mainly used as filler characters in experiments - neighbours, employers, whatever was needed. Then there were the active experiments, subjects that passed enough of the criteria to be considered exceptionally individualistic and likely to produce results. Anna was one of those.

He turned the page. 'Subject suffers from sexual dysfunction. Adversely affected by subject #3855. Recommend limited exposure during experimentation to prevent risk of deviant behaviour.' He looked up at Daniel. "It's true, then." He turned the page back, pointing at the redhead in the torn photograph. "This is her, this is the girl in the bakery. They were lovers."

"It– would seem so," Daniel replied slowly. He took a seat on a low table beside the cabinet, quiet and thoughtful. "This is... very unexpected," he said slowly. "And quite remarkable. To think that the human mind could protect itself well enough that... her memories are actually re-establishing things on their own." He shook his head slowly. "Remarkable."

"So what do we do?" John asked, turning to face him, leaning back against the cabinet. "We can show her this, can't we? So she'll believe that her dreams are true?"

Daniel watched him for a long moment. "I think... regardless of proof... she needs to come to that decision- by herself. She will decide if she will or if she won't. But we will– take this with us. Just in case."

John nodded, tucking it under his arm, and sat down on the bench beside Daniel. "Haven't you ever wanted to look for yours?"

The doctor was quiet for a moment, looking out into the darkness and shadows of the files. "Tempted... yes. But also a little– afraid. Of what I might find."

"Why would you be afraid?"

He looked over to John with an apologetic smile. "I remember enough," he said simply. "Enough that I– I don't think I want to– remember more. Unlike you, they– simply took my memories. Over and over. But I still remember– why I am here, why I... why I chose to do, what I did." His smile grew grim. "It is how -– they kept me here."

"What happened?" John asked softly after a long silence, watching him, hoping that the doctor would open up, some unfamiliar part of him craving the feeling of closeness, being able to talk openly about these things.

Daniel was silent for so long that John began to doubt that he'd answer, when he started to speak. "I remember... that I was this, when they– captured me. A clinical psychologist- scientist of– of the mind. That I ran a– a very successful research lab. And they brought me here with– with another scientist, one that– that worked under me." He wet his lips, his voice even softer. "The love of my life."

John drew a soft breath. "I'm sorry..."

Daniel shook his head absently. "I don't– remember my lover. They took care of that. I just remember– that they tortured us both– attempts to recruit us, threaten us, to help them. Most of the– of the scars I have now, are from that time. Their Negotiations. Finally they– they gave me a choice. I could work willingly– for them, and they- would let my lover go, with new memories. To a new life. If I resisted... if I wouldn't work for them, they would use the threat– of my continued torture or – death, to make my lover - do the work instead."

John let his hand rest lightly on the doctor's arm, feeling an empathetic wash of pain at his words. "I'm so sorry..."

Daniel turned to give him a brave little smile, eyes revealing the emotions his words covered up. "That is– all they left me with, John. The only memories. There is nothing– to mourn."

"Don't you want to find her?" John asked incredulously. "I'll help you find your file, help you find her– "

Daniel shook his head again. "It is very kind of you– to offer. But neither of us would– know the other. Just two strangers in this– strange city. So I will be content- with the knowledge- that... once I loved, and was loved in return."

John felt a strange twist of pain in his heart at the doctor's words. "But Daniel... if Anna's subconscious is really bringing back her real identity... couldn't the same happen to you?"

Daniel turned to look at him, shifting a little in his seat, his eyes searching John's hazel ones for a long moment, and John wondered a little at their sadness, longing. "No," he said softly, finally. "Even if Anna is not– a fluke, an evolution– like you. I have many– many more chemicals in my mind– more than anyone else in this city. The strangers were– very careful with me. I don't think my identity– could survive all of that."

"Your personality survived. Your individuality survived. Your ability to– " he stopped short. "-to feel. Even if the memories never return, what about meeting again? Romancing again?"

The doctor looked a little sad. "I think in this case... the memories are too important a piece of– the puzzle. But thank you. Thank you very much, John."

John looked down, a little disappointed that he wouldn't take him up on his offer. "Well... if you ever change your mind... please let me help. It's the least I can do for you to repay you for your kindness."

They sat in silence for a long moment, and he began to flip through the end of Anna's file again. There were pages and pages of observation notes about her, notes on everything from her actions and the company she kept to the food she ate. He flipped back to look at the photo of her family, wondering at the damage, and read through the information again, turning to the next page. "Daniel... there's a page ripped out."

The doctor looked over. "It is common, if there was – a death, or a stray. Remove all sign, they thought – that it would taint the experiment. But no matter -- whoever that was, they cannot -- be in the city any longer."

"Or maybe it's me. I dream of her, too."

Daniel nods slowly. "It is quite possible. You caused them– a lot of trouble."

John chuckled despite himself. "That's an understatement." he laughs, "Let's get back outside to the sun." They made their way to the surface again without difficulty, Daniel tucking Anna's file inside his bag and taking it back to the office.

Anna adjusted better than John had expected, though Daniel didn't seem surprised. She devoured his book, and was quoting random psychobabble at John before he knew it. A little more than a week later, and she had struck up a firm friendship with the woman from the bakery, whose name was Rachel, and John grew to expect her presence in the apartment, used to seeing the two women talk for hours.

If he'd thought that Anna's thrice weekly visits to Daniel would stop with the addition of Rachel, he was wrong. If anything, it made her more voracious, more diligent in keeping the diary of every aspect of her dreams, discussing them heavily with Daniel. They talked about Rachel as well, sometimes, when Anna brought it up. She talked about friendship, but John could see from the way she smiled that her heart was slowly over-ruling whatever fear her mind had.

If Anna talked about her dreams even more, then John definitely talked about them less. Not that they were happening any less. The dream of being intimate with Daniel became reoccurring – not always the same situation, but always Daniel. They were difficult to wake up from, sometimes – his dreams- their being together, in love. It was hard to leave the emotions behind in dreamland, and waking meant the confusion of facing them. Still, he found himself making more excuses to see the Doctor, to go for walks, for lunch, for quiet afternoons at the riverfront, just overlooking the water in the sun while Daniel read beside him.

The Doctor tried to prompt John into talking about his dreams, especially when they were alone. But as he dreamed more and more, it became increasingly difficult for him to separate the remembered intimacy from the other details of his dreams, so more often than not, he shrugged it off, claiming that if he was dreaming, he didn't recall. Sometimes he tried to turn the tables on his friend, asking what he saw when he slept, but Daniel just laughed.

"Nothing so exciting as– as Anna," he would reply. "I'm sorry to– to disappoint you." And yet he seemed overly interested in John's, which confused him. He was fairly certain that Daniel believed in Anna, believed that her memories were coming back. But when it came to John, he went from extreme interest to writing it off. Sometimes John wished that he'd just pick an angle and stick to it, so that he could either accept his own dreams, or dismiss them entirely. So that he could decide what to do about the warring emotions inside him.

But then again, he couldn't really blame Daniel. Without the whole picture, how could he gain an accurate opinion? Without the intimate details, John's dreams were disjointed, confusing. Not like Anna's. Naturally, he couldn't tell Daniel. He wasn't even sure he could admit it to himself.

Regardless of his indecision, the dreams still came.

_In his dream, he is at work, pouring over notes. Daniel's voice behind him. "Time?"_

_They are alone in the lab. He turns towards the lab table where he stands, looking down at his watch. "Eleven fifteen."_

_Daniel gives a nod, calmly taking a small notepad from inside the jacket of his coat, writing something down. "Five hours and twenty three minutes." He pauses. "Sooner than yesterday."_

"_Sooner?" He tilts his head to one side, giving him a quizzical smile._

_Daniel rounds the lab bench, slipping his hand into John's and moving his lips to brush his ear, his voice warm and husky. "Five hours and twenty three minutes since this morning, for me to feel like I can't resist you any longer__."_

_He turns, nuzzling his cheek with a soft laugh. "An experiment? You're such a psychologist."_

"_Enthusiast of the Human Mind," Daniel corrects him softly, smiling. "But... perhaps this doesn't have to do so much with just the mind..."_

_His dream self feels a surge of desire, leaning into him. "Let's take an early lunch."_

_They make love in his office on the couch, silently, carefully, the secrecy making the sensations more intense. Clothes pushed aside to bare skin for the tease of each other's hands and mouths, silent and intense passion and mutual pleasure._

_They lay on the couch afterwards, somehow both fitting together on the cramped furniture without discomfort. "I love you," Daniel whispers, and presses his lips to his head._

And John woke up to nothing but the lingering sensation of touch on his skin and the remnants of a wet dream.

Anna had plans the next morning, a day trip to Shell Beach with Rachel. John saw them off to the bus stop, and then kept walking, ambling with no particular direction in mind, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city in the early morning.

"John! Good morning!" John looked up at the familiar voice, realizing that his feet had automatically taken him past Daniel's office. The Doctor had just turned the corner, a morning paper under his arm along with a paper bag, and he gave John a warm smile, a little surprised. "I'm sorry– were we to meet– this morning?"

John watched him silently for a moment, the way the sun played on his features, the hint of blonde hair underneath the chocolate coloured fedora. He could still hear the dream-Daniel's voice murmuring endearments in his ear after sex, and he smiled wistfully without meaning to, realizing that he rather wished the dreams were real.

"John?" Daniel gave him a curious smile, still watching him, the prompt pulling him away from his thoughts.

"No, we didn't have plans, I'm sorry. I just went for a walk... and it seems I ended up here."

"Come up– for breakfast," Daniel offered. "I have no plans– for this morning, if you don't? The shop down the road– has excellent pastries. I insist for you– to try."

John agreed, holding the door for him and following him up to the office. He took a seat and let Daniel fuss over the tea and pastries, happy to watch him, to think. The pastry was probably excellent– stuffed with egg and spiced sausage and cheese– but his thoughts were far from food. Maybe... maybe it was time to try and sort things out.

"I had another dream last night," John said finally, seemingly out of the blue, and he heard a teacup clatter jarringly on its saucer from where Daniel was pouring tea at the desk.

"What happened?" The doctor asked, keeping his back turned, but his voice was completely composed, and if he'd been startled, John must have imagined it. He handed John a cup of tea, sitting down with his own in the chair beside John.

John sighed, looking down at his tea. Maybe it was a fool's errand, trying to sort this out. His mind moved, unbidden, to the real focus of the dream– the desperate kisses and caresses, the touch and taste of the doctor's skin under his lips. "We were having breakfast," He said finally. "Tea, like we are now. And toast. You had it with... marmite, and I thought you were crazy. I burnt the toast." He looked up to find an almost fond smile on Daniel's face.

"It sounds- like a nice dream." He replied, sipping his tea, but didn't supply anything else.

"Daniel..." John stopped, giving a soft sigh. Today, it seemed, was the kind of day where Daniel would dismiss the dreams instead of encourage the memories, and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, not sure how to broach the obsession that was slowly taking over his every waking moment. He switched channels. "Anna dreams about Rachel. We know that. Somehow she remembers things, specific things that are written in her records. There's no way she could dream those by chance." He looked up at the doctor, as if sheer force of will could make him remember as well. "If her brain is adjusting... if her original memories are seeping back... why couldn't mine be doing the same?"

"John." Daniel's voice was soft. "I know you- want it to happen. But Anna is perhaps– just a miracle– it's not normal. What you say you remember is not what Anna is experiencing."

"I can Tune. That's not normal. If I find my file– maybe it can prove things too, give me some answers..."

"John– I read your file, before when they- were hunting you. Many times. You were- you were never a psychologist."

John froze, his teacup half way to his mouth, but his mind raced, its heightened activity searching through every conversation he'd had with Daniel since the dreams had started. Then he lowered the cup slowly, placing it back on its saucer and setting it aside on the small endtable before looking at Daniel, his voice low. "I... never said I was a psychologist."

Daniel's face drained of colour. "You– you said..."

"I said I worked with you. I never said what I did." He was certain he had never said anything of the sort. Daniel must have gotten it from his own memories. And if he could remember that, then....

Daniel stood, the colour coming back to his face in a hot flush, but the look in his eyes was the same vulnerable fear he'd had when John had first met him, when he'd been a slave to the Strangers. "I - I assumed..."

"How would you assume?" John said softly, standing as well, slowly, trying not to be threatening.

The doctor shook his head, stammering a little on top of his laboured speech. "You– you know I've always- been a psychologist– so naturally–"

John shook his head, holding his hands out in front of him without thinking about it, almost holding his breath in his hope for... for what? "Why would you assume that would make me think I was a psychologist?"

"I meant to say– that you never worked- with me-"

"You're skirting the issue," John cut him off, frustration boiling up inside, breaking through the patience. "Why are you so afraid to admit that we could have known each other?" He moved forward, backing the skittish doctor back against the desk.

"We didn't..."

John took him by the shoulders, knowing that he was being rough with him, not being able to stop himself in his anger. "Don't lie to me! I know you remember me!"

"I'm not – I'm not lying..."

"Then why won't you look at me?" He grabbed Daniel's face with one hand, turning him forcibly to meet his gaze. But underneath the wounded fear, was something John Murdoch couldn't place at first, something that slowly overcame the fear as John searched his face. Longing.

Daniel said nothing, but lowered his blue eyes, the half-lidded one almost closing as he let out the softest of sighs. It was all the invitation John needed to act on his dreams, leaning in to press his lips to Daniel's.

For a moment, Daniel's lips were soft, welcoming. For a moment he returned the kiss, and John detected a hint of desire, the shoulders under his hands trembling more than normal. Then the doctor's lips hardened, pressing tight together as he jerked his face away with a gasp, his words hard. "Don't project your desires- onto me! It didn't– happen!"

John pulled back, the words slicing a raw well of pain into him, pain that brought helplessness- that brought anger. "... you're lying to me."

Daniel squirmed out of his grasp, sliding behind the desk and grabbing for his desk chair, sitting down weakly, seeming more out of breath than usual. "If things were—as your dreams say—why would I lie to you?"

John shook his head wordlessly, his body stepping back automatically, a little dazed. The anger ebbed slowly, and he found himself watching his companion, who sat quietly, staring down at his desk with his lips pressed firmly shut.

"You're not lying, are you?"

"I'm sorry-- John," The blonde replied, words a little more than a whisper. "I can't.... I can't give you what you seek. If you – if you truly dream of me – then it is my meddling – that caused it. Nothing more. I am truly – sorry. That I – did this – to you."

John shook his head, emotions clouding his thoughts. "Don't. I – I'll go." He turned for the door blindly, snatching up his coat, ignoring the doctor's soft call as he left the office, shutting the door firmly behind him. He stopped, leaning back against the door weakly, a soft sound reaching his ears that he thought might be a sob. He pushed it away, walking home.

_He has nightmares that night, nightmares he ha__s__n't had since he stopped sleeping with Anna. They are all Daniel this time. Daniel thrown to the ground beside him, bruised and bleeding, his right eye swollen shut. Lying next to him, his body nothing but the red hot sensation of pain. The vision in John's right eye is tinted red, the spot above it on his head a white hot spike of pain, but he struggles to look at him. His hand reaches, strains to touch Daniel, and the other man awakes, gasping, hand finding and clutching his._

_John whispers his name helplessly, and his eyes burn with tears. The blue eye that he can see tears as well, each breath that the doctor draws seeming to take all the effort in his body._

"_I won't- let them do this – to you--" Daniel manages finally, gasping. "I promise -- Jason – won't let them – hurt you anymore."_

"_I love you," John whispers. And then the Strangers come, cold marble hands that tear them apart, surround him, and he's sobbing, the pain in his chest eclipsing that in his battered limbs. He cries Daniel's name, over and over, until the Strangers stab a syringe into his forehead, and everything goes black._

John awoke, not screaming this time, but in tears, his heart aching like the world has ended. The emotions from the dream mixed with the pain of rejection from the day before, and he broke down into sobs, alone where no one can see him. Alone in this city that he was master of, and yet entirely helpless to effect his own happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

Dreams of Darkness and Light

Fandom: Dark City

Pairing: Murdoch/Schreber

Standard disclaimer: I do not own or make money off of 'Dark City' or its characters, this is a work of fan fiction only. :)

Part 3

John spent several days a home in the apartment, brooding, no desire to go out into the city, to go anywhere alone The pleasant dreams were gone now, replaced with nightmares, horrible imagery and pain that made him want nothing more than to go to Daniel to be assured that he was all right. But he resisted, though it made him miserable. He wasn't sure exactly what had happened between them that day in Daniel's office, but he had been rejected. Daniel didn't believe him.

Finally he decided he needed answers, and went out into the underground of the city, back to look for his file.

He attacked the Stranger's archives like a madman, going through each filing cabinet, searching for answers. He found Rachel's file, but there was no mention of him in it, only Anna. Finally, several days and several paper cuts later, he admitted defeat. If his file was still in existence, it wasn't there.

The next possibility, then, was what Daniel had relayed. Another storage room, hidden, for sensitive files. Taking a lift, he slowly began to explore the underground domain, combing through the maze of tunnels and rooms, and tuning open new paths to hidden rooms when he found them. Finally, just when he'd given up for the day, he found it, almost by chance. A small tunnel opening on the way out lead to a dead end, but he Tuned an opening into the room beyond it, knowing that he'd found it a soon as he stepped off the lift.

It was much smaller here, much more clearly labelled. The biggest bank was for the dead, with poor Bumstead's file sitting on top of the cabinet, never put away. He refrained from reading it, feeling it would be somehow disrespectful, and made a mental note to make the poor detective a beautiful tombstone somewhere, sometime.

He skipped the bank of files marked as dead, and started looking through the other small collections of files. He found his halfway through, his photo unmistakeable, shoved in the front of a drawer without filing, as if the caretaker was in a hurry. John pulled it out, Tuning a desk lamp into being and starting to leaf through. 'Jason Walker, Subject #192'.

Last persona – John Murdoch. There were notes about his awakening, his Tuning, and then before that, the plans they'd had for the experiment. Prior to John, he was Frank Miller. The name meant nothing to him. John flipped through those quickly, knowing exactly what he was looking for at the back of the file.

When he reached it, however, there was nothing there. There was his personal information, his rating scale, of course. And names listed as his family that evoked no emotion. There was no mention of Anna, and most importantly, no mention of Daniel.

John closed the file slowly, setting it aside, and sat down on a solid metal riser beside the file cabinet. He couldn't set aside the feeling that there must have been some truth to his dreams, some place for them to come from. He wondered if the Strangers would have even allowed the inclusion of information about their Doctor in his file, if Daniel's information was so confidential. But perhaps if he found Daniel's file....

This thought cheered him, and he set to work searching the files. Half an hour later, he still had no results. He'd gone through the regular file cabinets two or three times a piece, and even gone through the deceased bank, but Daniel's file was nowhere to be found. He sat back down on the metal riser block, leaning against the file with a sigh. No files, no proof, no answers. Nothing to explain the way he was feeling the way he was.

Then he looked down, mind moving, sensing. The cube he was sitting on was not furniture at all, but more storage, entirely sealed from all sides. Heart beating, he stood, tuning the top of the box away.

Subject #50. Daniel Poe Schreber. He lifted the file with shaking hands, at first just staring down at the photo on the cover. Unlike the others, this was a magazine clipping, a blonde man in a fitted white lab coat, smiling. Daniel, like he was in his dreams. He opened the file to the first page eagerly. There was very little in the way of observations, just a few remarks here and there about how obedient he was during that time period, or was not, whether 'disciplinary action' was required. An injection recommendation for "no longer than every 28 cycles" to avoid the subject from becoming "difficult."

Then there were pages, pages and pages of more magazine clippings. Articles, covers, photos, papers, written by Daniel and about Daniel, calling him gifted, a prodigy. Chronicles of discoveries in bio-chemical research, continual reference to a breakthrough treatment for something called "Alzheimers", and many other things that John didn't understand. And pictures of Daniel... young, happy. Whole.

He closed his eyes to it for a moment, only a little surprised at the ache in his chest as he thought about his friend. As much as he'd tried not to think about it... he missed Daniel, painfully. Steeling himself, he continued on.

His original persona information came last, and was much thicker than he remembered Anna's being. There was another photo of him, alone, and the same formula ratings he saw on all the files. And there was that line again. "Subject suffers from sexual dysfunction. Adversely affected by subject #51. Recommend removing possibility of interaction whenever possible to prevent risk of deviant behaviour or control difficulties with subject." He turned the page, reading on. The notes were extremely detailed, referring to a negotiation process, and John felt a cold lump of rage and disgust settle in the pit of his stomach, realizing that everything was just as Daniel had said. The first entry, the chronologically latest, noted the negotiations a success. That Subject #51 had been implanted and sent away with a fake file. That the doctor had been very cooperative, that the memory wipe had been successful. John flipped faster, suddenly not wanting to read.

And then without warning, he found what he was looking for. It was the same picture of him he'd found on the file for subject #192. Jason Walker. Subject #51. Long time companion of Subject #50. Very strong chance of deviant behaviour occurring. Acquired as leverage for negotiations with Subject #50.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, closing the file and holding it to him, enjoying the feeling of relief coursing through him. Vindication. He wasn't insane. And now that that was decided... he would tell Daniel everything. Regardless of the outcome, he would be truthful with him... and ask his forgiveness for their argument.

He glanced down into the storage cube again, only to see his own face staring at him again. Ah... there was the real file. Jason Walker, #51. He set Daniel's down on top of the cabinet and picked his up, leafing through. It was very small, and mostly to do with Daniel, referring to his new file number and implantation at the end of "successful negotiation with Subject #50".

He flipped through the pages idly, then froze. There was the photo from Anna's file, the family photo, he realized. Only this time, it wasn't damaged, and he was in it. His mouth went dry as he read. 'Name: Jason Walker. Family unit of Toby and Janet Walker (unsuitable for experimentation). Maternity Melissa Heartford. Age calculated at 26 rotations of the blue planet.' He skimmed past the rating scale hurriedly, turning the page.

'Relations: Toby Walker (deceased) – shared paternity. Sarah Walker #3853 (18 rotations) – shared paternity.'

Half sister. John felt a knot of nausea in the base of his stomach, and he was suddenly very, very glad that they had ended their intimacy when they did. It struck him, then, the magnitude of the Stranger's last experiment. Not only to see if he could be a rapist and murderer, but to see if he would do the same to his own kin....

Telling Anna wasn't an option, his course of action was clear. He carefully removed the pages with Anna, setting them back in the cube and sealing it over, then picked up his and Daniel's files and returned to the lift.

The apartment was empty when he got home, quiet and tidy. A short note from Anna on the refrigerator to say she'd gone to a movie. He smiled, hoping it was with Rachel.

There was a letter addressed to him, sitting neatly on the table where he assumed Anna left it when she brought it in. His first name was written on the outside of the envelope in a familiar, tidy copperplate, and it took him a few moments to work up the courage to open it, sitting down safely in a chair by the window to read.

"Dear John,

Please forgive the circumstances of our last conversation. You came to me  
with questions, and I have treated you very unkindly. I shouldn't have  
dismissed your ideas so quickly when you have done nothing but listen to me  
and accept me unconditionally.

I cannot pretend to make excuses for myself, but this is a difficult time for  
us both right now. I pray you will forgive my weakness.

The city around me is meaningless without your company. Please consider  
the possibility of our continued friendship. I yearn to continue our conversation.

If, however, your life has moved on, please believe that knowing you has  
made me a better person, and that you were my light in overwhelming darkness.

Thank you for that, and for everything.

Your friend,

Daniel P Schreber."

John refolded the note carefully, placing it back into the envelope and closing his eyes, letting his head fall back against the chair. There was such an underlying tone of despair in the letter that he couldn't help but hate himself for causing it. But it still failed to address his most important question.... Was Daniel remembering as well?

He opened the letter again, reading it twice through. There was no hint of it, no mention of dreams or past love. But at least he seemed willing to talk....

Making a decision, he tucked the letter into his breast pocket and crossed the suite to the telephone, dialing Daniel's office. Three rings... four.... Just as John was about to be concerned, the psychologist picked up. "Dr. Schreber's office."

The warm familiarity of the voice sent a wash of emotion through him, and it took a moment for John to respond, long enough that Daniel had tried another greeting. "Hello?"

"Daniel? It's... me. John."

On the other end of the phone, it was Daniel's turn for silence. "It's good to- hear from you, John," His voice softened. "How are you?"

"I... got your letter," John replied, wetting his lips. "I'm- I'm sorry I've been out of contact for so long."

"It's all right," Daniel replied softly, but his voice sounded heavy, sad, and John found that he wanted nothing more than to be there in person, to take that sadness away.

"I know it's getting a little late, but... do you mind if I stop by? I just... I'm sorry for my actions. I'd like to explain myself a little. To talk to you." His eyes fell to the files where they sat on the counter. Maybe if he took those, he would be more open to listening....

"I would like that -- very much," Daniel replied softly, and John smiled, relieved.

"All right. I'll be there very shortly."

"See you soon, John."

It only took him a few moments to pull on his coat and jog up the steps to the roof, the files in hand. The idea of wasting time walking or hailing a taxicab sat like a rock in his stomach, so he tapped into the machines under the city to fly. He dropped down lightly onto the roof of Daniel's building, locating the top of the lift shaft and Tuning the doors open. Levitating himself gently down the shaft, he stepped out on Daniel's floor, just a few steps from his door. Heart pounding, he turned the handle and let himself in.

The office was messy, a state he'd never seen it in, with books and papers everywhere. He moved through it silently, through the hall to the open door to Daniel's apartment, which he'd also never seen before. It was small, cozy. Dominated by more books, and more mess.

Daniel was still dressed in a suit, but it was rumpled, the cuffs of his shirt ink stained, and his jacket was tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. He stood at the window, not making any move to acknowledge him as John entered.

John crossed the room quietly to stand behind him, speaking his name softly to announce his presence, but Daniel didn't turn, his eyes moving across the city outside.

"When it's light," he said softly, "I can almost – forget all of this. Forget them. You've made– a beautiful city, John."

John wet his lips, trying to decide how to respond, how to broach the subject. "I went into the vaults again," he said softly, finally. "I found the pocket where they kept... confidential records. You were right. The dead, the strays, the troublemakers. And... us." He held up the two coiled books silently, Daniel's on top.

Daniel gave a little shuddering sigh, reaching down to touch his name, the glossy photo on the front. "I was... unfortunately handsome then. Sometimes, I forget..."

That hasn't changed, John wanted to say, but he kept quiet. Instead, he kept a firm grip on the books. "Daniel... you should know I've read them both."

Daniel looked up at him, blue eyes wounded, fearful, the kind of look that broke John's heart. "I asked you– not to."

"I'm sorry," John replied, though he wasn't. "I will leave them here with you and never touch them again after tonight, if that's what you want. But I need to show you something. And I..." he hesitated. "I need to know the truth from you, the honest truth, before anything else."

Daniel expression couldn't be described as anything but miserable, but he nodded slowly.

John looked out at the city silently, trying to gather his thoughts. The sun was nearing the horizon, bathing the buildings in stark golden light and dark shadows. He turned back to Daniel to see the doctor watching him anxiously, fearfully, one hand clenching the windowsill so hard that his knuckles had turned white. "Why are you afraid?" he murmured, covering the hand with his own and carefully prying it from the window, keeping a firm grip to keep him from pulling away.

Daniel hesitated, his fingers trembling in John's, torn between pulling away and the safety line he offered. Finally they closed tightly with his, trembling. "You have... power over me," Daniel replied finally, looking down as if to hide from his reaction. "You are—the only one here, the only—who knows who I really am...."

"I won't hurt you," John said softly, and Daniel gave a little, nervous laugh.

"Who is to say? I'm not – I'm not the same Daniel – that I once was. You must—you must realize that. I've lost... my humanity, working for them."

John closed his eyes briefly against the wave of anguish that came at his words, wanting so badly to argue the opposite, but focusing instead on the task at hand. "You do remember me, then. My dreams are real."

Daniel swallowed hard, still unable to meet his gaze. "Yes. I believe so."

"Every one? Every night? Every night, Daniel, the dreams come. And it's always about..." he hesitated, trying to find the words. "You. You and I."

Daniel looked up at him, slowly, softly. "John... I dream them too."

"Do you remember..." John hesitated, gathering his strength. "What we were to each other?"

Daniel let out a small breath, closing his eyes, and the hand in his trembled. His voice, when he finally spoke, was surprisingly husky with emotion. "Every minute of every day."

John let out a long sigh, a surprising wash of relief running through him as he let go of the stress he didn't know he'd been holding onto. "Oh, gods... thank you."

Daniel's hand tightened almost painfully on his, and he opened his eyes to meet the blue gaze, eyes bright with emotion but surprisingly fierce. "I'm not your Daniel anymore," He almost growled. "I'm afraid – because when you realize – that the dreams aren't – how things are now... you will leave, and I... " he stopped, breathless, forcing himself to finish, his voice a whisper. "I will have nothing to live for."

John set the books down blindly on a table behind him, bringing his free hand up slowly, ghosting his fingers over Daniel's hair before gradually, ever so gently coming to rest on the side of his face, the pad of his thumb gently brushing across Daniel's twisted lips. He could feel Daniel's jaw grit under his touch, and he sighed, moving a little closer to him, wanting to reassure him however he could. "Daniel... if I don't have you in my life... I don't have anything to live for, either."

Daniel's eyes are pleading. "I've done... horrible things, John. You don't -- you don't understand...."

"I know that you did them so I wouldn't have to," he replied softly, simply, and Daniel's resolve broke, crumpling against him and clinging to him.

"I need you," John whispered softly, letting his face nuzzle into the blonde hair. "You've done so much for me already, but I need you all the more. I won't leave you. Please don't push me away. Daniel, please...."

And then, Daniel moved, just slightly, just enough that John could feel his lips press a trembling kiss against his jaw, holding it there with his hands clenched in the back of John's jacket. It took all of his willpower to stay still, to keep from grabbing his face and stealing the kisses that he craved, but he somehow found patience he didn't know he had, closing his eyes and letting the doctor take this final step at his own pace.

Daniel's breath came in warm, soft puffs against his cheek, but ever so slowly he began to move his lips, trembling, inching down in kisses along his jaw as his body shifted closer to him. John kept his eyes closed, letting one hand smooth slowly from Daniel's shoulder up over the back of his neck, curling gently in his hair, encouraging him. Daniel's lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, lingering for what seemed like a maddeningly long time. Then, softly breathing John's name against his lips, he let them come together in the softest brush, lingering close enough that his trembling sigh was like an echo of the kiss.

John tilted his head despite himself, ever so slightly, to press their lips together again, his arm tightening around Daniel's waist securely, pressing close to him. The gentle encouragement seemed to be what the doctor needed, and he claimed his lips again, warmer, his body starting to relax against him. John felt a soft moan escape his throat, overwhelmed with the sweetness of his mouth, how good, how real it felt to be living these kisses in the here and now. These were the sensations he'd dreamed of and craved, the memories coming back. The emotion to fill the hole in his heart.

Daniel was gasping against his mouth, drinking in his kisses like he would drown without them, and John revelled in it, tugging him closer to him, leaning back against the wall. Daniel took the silent hint, pressing him back into the wall in a way that John found so incredibly delicious, one hand moving up to tangle in his dark curls. He let his lips part, letting the doctor taste him, warm and yearning. It felt as though their bodies were meant to fit together, and John wondered how he could have ever forgotten something so perfect.

Daniel's breath had quickened to come in almost painful, harsh gasps against his mouth, breaking suddenly from the kiss to try and pull more air into his damaged lungs. John held him tightly, his forehead pressed to Daniel's. "Shhh...."

"I'm – so sorry – " the doctor tried to say, and John pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, stroking his back.

"Shh... don't talk," He murmured, nuzzling his cheek. "I don't want to hurt you."

Daniel relaxed against him a little as he slowly caught his breath, looking up at him with worried eyes. "This body - I'm so – weak... John... How can I – take care of you?"

John slipped his hand up to cup the damaged side of his face, stroking over the fine white scars gently with the pad of his thumb. "Don't worry about anything. You've always taken care of me. Now we'll take care of each other."

Daniel nodded slowly, turning his face to press a soft kiss to his thumb, his eyes not leaving John's. "The night—that you left here, the night that I – that I lied to you. I dreamed about – the nightmare, when they -- took you from me." He reached up to stroke his fingertips up the right side of John's face, fingertips brushing the eyelid that drooped the tiniest bit. "I remember— seeing what they did to you. I remember the blood. I'm glad you – came out better than I."

John leaned in to press his face to his hair, kissing the mangled ear, his damaged eyelid, the soft scars on his face. "A last, selfless gift from my lover." he whispered softly.

Daniel turned to brush his lips with his. "Not—the last, anymore. Not if I – can help it." He kissed him, warm and tender and yearning, and John had to forcibly steel himself against the rush of emotion and need.

"Can I stay with you?" He half whispered against his mouth. "I don't think I can stand to leave."

Daniel wrapped his arms around him tightly. "I don't think I – can stand to see you go," he replied, voice low and a little husky.

-------

They spent the night in Daniel's room, tangled in the sheets of his down-filled bed, making love. In some ways, it felt like he was living the dreams that he'd been having so frequently lately. He could remember quite vividly, little bits and pieces of their former lovemaking, what Daniel liked, what made him whimper and gasp. It was more than erotic to do that now, to rediscover his lover's body, and the new sensitivity of his scars.

In other ways it was very different. They made love slowly, tenderly, controlling their passion for the sake of Daniel's health. It was almost maddening, when slow was the last way that John wanted to take things, but in the end it made the sensations, emotions so much more intense, and they brought each other to the sweetest climax, no thoughts left in mind but that of their love.

They curled together afterward, breathless and sated. Complete. On impulse, John placed a palm against Daniel's chest, sending his attention to the delicate structure beneath it, the skin and muscle, tissue and bone. Becoming acutely aware of exactly how his heart beat, how he drew breath. It wasn't much different, in the end, than making buildings. He didn't need to be an architect, just to know how to copy things around him, to make things as they should be. It was the same with his lover's body, with the ravaged tissue of his lungs, which he carefully made new again, opening and strengthening the formerly scared and damaged passages, letting his breath flow freely.

He lifted his head to see Daniel watching him with undisguised wonder, and while it might have been his imagination, John thought he looked healthier already. He smiled, fingers stroking his chest gently. "How do you feel?"

The doctor drew a long breath, deep and free from physical pain, and his voice, when he replied, was more than a little overwhelmed. "John... you...."

"Shh...." John kept stroking, over and over, leaning in to kiss him warmly. "I love you."

Daniel nodded slowly. "More than anything in the word. I missed you... so much." he murmured softly, but the awe in his voice and in his eyes told volumes more.

"I'll never leave you again," John replied, sealing his words with a tender kiss.

John woke the next morning to the slow caress of Daniel's fingers over his back, his breath slow and even against John's hair, face nuzzling into it. He let himself stretch languidly against Daniel's body, finding the feeling of being nude with him sinfully delicious. Shifting a little, he raised his head to look at him, arching to catch his mouth, kisses sweet and warm.

"Thank you," Daniel whispered softly as their lips parted, eyes bright with emotion, with wonder.

John tilted his head with a little smile. "For?"

Daniel let his eyes fall closed for a moment, drawing a deep breath, then letting it out with a small sigh of pleasure. "For being here with me. For making me well."

"I'm sorry. I should have tried it long ago," John replied seriously, but Daniel shook his head.

"You've done more for me than I can ever repay you for," the doctor said softly, but John silenced him with a kiss, pulling back to meet his gaze.

"Daniel... you saved my life when you didn't even know me. When I'd been cruel to you. No more talk about who is repaying who. Let's just make up for the time we've lost." He leaned forward on impulse, pressing his lips to the corner of Daniel's right eye and closing his eyes to focus. It was easier this time, to urge away the scar tissue, shift his skin to how it should be, soft and smooth and whole.

Daniel was quivering under him, and burst out laughing as John pulled back. "... that tickles!" He blinked several times, tensing then stretching the muscles in his face. "God, that feels wonderful."

John laughed with him, cuddling closer. "I'll fix everything, if you want. Undo everything they did to you."

Daniel brushed his fingertips over his cheek, giving him a fond smile. "This is fine. It's part of who I am, what we survived." He paused for a moment, reflecting, then gave a guilty little smile. "Well... maybe my leg...."

John reached up to kiss him, revelling in his closeness, the familiarity of it. "Anything I have, anything you want is yours," he murmured softly, loving the security of Daniel's arms around him.

"I just want you," his friend replied, tightening his arms around him gently.

John smiled, taking a moment to indulge in just looking at him. Yes... this was his Daniel. A little older, a little scarred... but this was the man he remembered, the man he'd loved so much that those memories had come back in dreams despite all the meddling of the Strangers. "When did you first remember me?"

Daniel gave his little guilty smile again. "When did I remember, or when did I realize that it was real?"

"Both."

"Hmm..." Daniel let his head lean back against the headboard, idly reaching for his glasses and putting them on. "I started dreaming about you almost immediately after you took over the city," he admitted. "I mentioned to you before that the strangers would inject me every two weeks, they said I'd become troublesome otherwise. Perhaps the lack of new memories made the memory wipe less effective.... In any case, that's why it took me so long to work up the nerve to come and see you. It was a rather... strange thing to adjust to."

John watched him with a fond little smile. "I'm glad you came," he said, softly.

"I couldn't stay away," Daniel admitted, idly smoothing a hand over John's arm, fingers stroking his skin. "That day we went down to the vaults... when you talked about the squid ink pasta, and being called Jason, I realized that there was a very good chance that they were memories after all. I just... wasn't sure you'd want me."

John shifted up closer to him, nuzzling his hair. "I'll show you every day how much I do."

Daniel gave a soft, appreciative noise, dropping a soft kiss on his earlobe. "You know... I finally dreamed of Anna last night."

John pulled back and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Anna? Really?"

He nodded. "She was very young. We'd gone... to a restaurant together? Her and you and I. For some reason you left the table... and she told me that if I broke your heart, she'd make me regret it for the rest of my life."

He chuckled. "She didn't."

"I remember telling her that it was likely to be the other way around," he said, and chuckled. "That despite my best efforts... my heart belonged entirely to you." He brushed the pad of his thumb over John's lips. "It's still true."

John kissed the pad of his thumb gently. "You know..." he said softly, "It seems like such an odd twist of fate.... Out of everyone in this city, that the person who developed the ability to defeat them... was the lover they'd used to enslave you."

"Some kind of cosmic karma?" Daniel suggested, and John smiled.

"Perhaps. The day we defeated them, when I went back to Shell Beach... Mister... Hand, was it? He was there. Said he wanted to find out how I felt, even if it meant dying. And I told him... that what they were looking for, the secret to humanity wasn't in the mind at all...." He looked down at Daniel seriously, tracing his fingertips over his features, trying to memorize the moment, the look and feel of him.

"I believed it then... but now I know for certain. It's love that makes us who we are."

_____________

(fin)


End file.
